"I know who you _are_," he returned. "You and I--" With a deprecatory
gesture, as though good taste forbade him saying who we were, he
stopped. "But the ship's surgeon!" he protested; "he's an awful bounder!
Besides," he added quite simply, "he's watching me."
"As a doctor," I asked, "or watching you play cards?"
"Play cards," the young man answered. "I'm afraid he was ship's surgeon
on the P. & O. I came home on. There was trouble that voyage, and I
fancy he remembers me."
His confidences were becoming a nuisance.
"But you mustn't tell me that," I protested. "I can't have you making
trouble on this ship, too. How do you know I won't go straight from
here to the captain?"
As though the suggestion greatly entertained him, he laughed.
He made a mock obeisance.
"I claim the seal of your profession," he said.
"Nonsense," I retorted. "It's a professional secret that your nerves are
out of hand, but that you are a card-sharp is _not_. Don't mix me up
with a priest."
For a moment Talbot, as though fearing he had gone too far, looked at me
sharply; he bit his lower lip and frowned.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111